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User blog:MichaelDiaz101/Michael's Final Year at Bullworth: Chapter 13
The days since Christmas passed were really uneventful. The snow had encased the entire county, and travel was basically nullified. When Charles brought up the notion of a party Michael practically jumped at the idea. Charles' aunt and uncle were away and so the party was to be held at their place. Of course Charles warned Michael not to smash anything too horribly. Michael arrived at before the initial arrival of the other party goers. He knocked on the door, and waited. "Come on, Charles. My balls are freezing off!" He mumbles. Finally the door opens and Michael could see the look in his eyes. Red, almost bloodshot, kid was on dope. Michael sighed. "Well I see you're eager to get the funk on." Michael quips, and they both laugh. Charles has his jeans on, and is in an undershirt. "Why the undershirt, not like there's any muscle anyways?" He jokes, before stepping into the house. Michael was early but there were others there attending to the party, one of whom was Johnny Vincent, there were a few Bullies, a couple of Jocks. No Preps to name off but the party was just kicking off. Michael went to the living room and acquired himself a beer. He popped the cap off on the wooden table and went over to where Jack was. "How's the party going?" Michael asked, upon closer inspection he uncovered that Jack was already out of his wits, drunk. "I'm good duuude." Jack's slurred response came, spitting in every direction. Soon other students arrived, even those that didn't attend the school began to arrive. Soon Patrick arrived and the two collided knuckles in a showcase of brotherly intent. "How you doing you tall motherfucker?" Michael grinned, and Patrick chuckled. "I'm fine." The two had become really close since the events of last year when they fought, an event that made its way whole school. The two were drafted as enemies and it nearly came to blow several times. After Michael won the two slowly became friends. The party began to really heat up as Jimi Hendrix ''All Along the Watchtower ''hit the stereo hard. As the party delved on Michael saw Parker slither his way through the hallway. Michael was angry, he wanted to beat that man for what happened to Bradi last year. He still holds that event close to himself as Bradi was one of his premiere friends. Michael clenched his fists and made his way to Parker. "Why are you here?" Michael growled, his eyes wide. "I came for the party." Parker replied, trying to appear innocent. "Well if you go near Bradi I will crush you." Michael snarls, holding his fist up in a threatening manner. "I already got threatened by Charles." Parker said, quietly. "Well here's another one." Michael told him, before returning to Patrick over at the couch. Patrick was giving him an understanding look. "I hate that guy." Michael said, to which Patrick nodded. Soon Charles and Johnny joined them and were talking. Charles was incredibly high, which of course made Michael worried. He always had to snap at Charles for getting too stoned, and Charles would always disregard his request. As is the binding force of their friendship. Charles, in a weed-adled stupor noticed Edgar all by himself. Michael thought that Charles saw something of himself in little Edgar, the kid was a rich brat, but Charles saw something that engendered himself in a simple, yet evocative respect. Charles went about introducing Edgar to the entire group. Edgar ambled over to their triage of friendship. "What's up?" Patrick asked, almost inaudibly. Patrick was not very talkative, he preferred to be quiet. It wasn't like he was shy, or afraid of contemption like Charles or Edgar, he just liked the solitude and silence. "Nothing much, nice to meet you." Edgar said, timidly, he swallowed hard as he tried to remain vigilant but Michael saw through the small boys' preamble. Next Charles introduced Edgar to Johnny, which may have been a mistake, being that they came from different prisms in society. Charles was able to get him to ease up to him though, and Edgar meekly shook the Greaser leader's hand. Michael and Patrick went over to the fridge to get more beers. "What do you think of the kid?" Michael asked. "He seems like Charles." Patrick observed, beer clutched in his right hand as he took a small sip. They both chuckled and went over to the counter. Michael leaned on the counter and they began to dive into a conversation about many topics. Over the hours the music grew louder, and the sparse population grew into a large group of shambling teens, all bent on having a good time. Michael didn't dance like everyone else but he surely got his score up on how many beers he could scarf down in a sitting. It was two hours into the party when a comfrontation had assembled in the main room. Michael heard the faux, almost condescending tone of Tad. He pushed his way through the crowd and stood behind Charles as they stood in a stalemate. "Whoever said you trust fund babies were allowed to step foot on my property?" Charles asked, his whole body was tensed up, and not how loose he'd been as of late. His eyes were transfixed on Tad's unblemished, soft face. The other Preps that joined him looked almost ready to draw a gun in case of a shootout, Michael was ready to go too. "We invited ourselves, pauper." Tad fired back, in a dismissive tone, his eyes were calm and judgemental. "I'm sorry, no self invitation. Leave." Charles voice began to deteriorate. Michael could hear it quavering as he was struggling to stay composed. Michael almost wondered if he should intervene, as he was always steady in these situations and Charles had a reputation for breaking into a violent outbreak. "Who's going to make us?" Tad crossed his arms, and looked at his backup, smiling. This lasted for some time, and it just began to turn on Charles. Finally Tad said something that really hit Charles hard. Making fun of him for his depression, and inner sadness. Charles had had enough, his lips quivered, nose flaring. His eyes were designating Tad as a viable target. He trembled and shuddered as he stood there. Tad didn't stop there. Apart from incoherent whispering there was not much chatter, everyone had their eyes on this situation. Patrick watched on in disgust, his respect for Charles the only thing preventing him from handling the situation himself. "Everyone get out of the house." Charles muttered, silently. "Party's over!" He then raised his voice, though it trembled with rage. The guests were incredulous, they were used to these antics from Charles. Finally the house was empty, and the privy of silence could be felt. No one spoke, no one knew what to do. It was over. Everyone watched Charles, and he began to move to the door, to which Edgar stepped between him and the door. Their faces inches from one another. Charles berates him for his wealth background and effortlessly shoves him out of the way. Edgar struggles to gain his footing. Edgar looked as if he'd been shot, tears welling on his face as Charles slammed the door behind himself and stormed off without a trace. Michael sighs, leaning against the wall, ''what a fun night, ''he grimaced. His eyes were at the ceilling, just wondering what came next. Everyone was dumbfounded. "I-I don't understand, what did I do?" Edgar asked, his voice trembling with guilt. This time the tears were streaming down his face. "Nothing, you didn't do anything, Edgar." Bradi assures him, softly. "Then why did he do that?" Edgar asked, trying to keep himself in control of his emotions, and failing because of it. Michael explained why, how Charles had emotional issues, always had. Edgar took a moment to let that process in his mind before looking up. "Michael, we have to go find Charles, now." "Why, we should just let him cool off." Michael said, coolly. Finally they decide that, with the snow storm, it would be best to follow him. They all go out onto the street. Visibility is narrow, and they moved slowly because of it. The snow was inches deep and the fog settled over the town, giving it an almost translucent glow. They make their way to the beach, wearily, making sure they didn't get hit by cars or anything of that nature. The beach was completely blanketted in snow, the wooden dock was nearly missed because of the snow cover. Small snowflakes fell down around them, slowly. They walked on the beach. Michael was shivering and he was wearing a trench coat, and jeans. Hard to imagine what Charles was going through in this weather. A figure is seen, walking with slow impunity, in the distance. Michael called out and the figure and it settled down into the fetal position. Before they were even at the figure Michael knew who it was. He took the blanket from Nicole and hurried over to Charles. "Come on buddy." Michael lifts Charles frail arms so that he can encompass him in the soft, wool, blanket. "It's time to go home." He helps Charles to his feet, carefully. "Michael." Charles looks up at Michael, his eyes were welled up, red, and even though he had been smoking weed he knew that it was due to the crying. They glistened with sadness, and disdain. As Charles stands he breaks into more tears, body falling limp as Michael catches him and holds him. "I'm so sorry for everything!" he begins, through deep breaths. "I know I'm a fuckup, you guys deserve better things than dealing with me when I'm like this. I get it if you never want to talk to me again, I just wanted to say I'm sorry." Charles finishes, his face was red, and his eyes quivered. Even Michael could feel a stray tear escaping his eyelids. "Charles, don't say that." Bradi tried to reassure him, but her lips trembled. Charles continues on with sadness as Michael holds him, being the last wall of defense as Charles was too weak to maintain himself. After doling out his apologies they return to the house and everyone falls asleep. The Next Day It was the morning after the New Years Party. ''Happy 2011, ''he thought to himself, sarcastically. Everyone was still asleep except for Michael. He didn't sleep well in Charles' Uncle's house. He was fuming with rage. It was only four hours since those events. Michael was struck with vengence. He wanted to hit those Preps where it hurt, and hard. The weather had risen slightly, but snow still encompassed the streets, the roads were icy. Michael returned to the campus, he got some spray paint and was ready to go to work. He found Tad's car in the parking lot. Luckily no one was around as everyone else was indoors. Michael took a breath as he stepped towards Tad's car. He began to kick it. Violently, and with immense anger. He knocked the fender off, and then threw rocks at the windows, shattering them. Finally he spray painted on the side. '''Inbred trash. '''Spray painted on the side of the car. He took another breath, and then wiped his brow, which was sweating. He longed for another beer, and began his trek back to the Boys' Dorm. Category:Blog posts